


courfeyrac's perspective is an outlier (should not be considered with the rest)

by ladyoftheunderground



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, combeferre's a little sad, enby jehan, triumvirate friendship in the context of c-squared
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-06
Updated: 2019-11-06
Packaged: 2021-01-24 09:56:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21336355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyoftheunderground/pseuds/ladyoftheunderground
Summary: “We’re trying to work something out,” Courfeyrac answered after several awkwards seconds of staring back and forth. “Could we have a few more minutes?”But Jehan was already lighting a cigarette and turning their back to them. “Act like I’m not even here.”
Relationships: Combeferre/Courfeyrac
Comments: 1
Kudos: 30





	courfeyrac's perspective is an outlier (should not be considered with the rest)

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first time publishing (and i think finishing) a les mis fic. definitely unbeta'd. it's just another iteration of combeferre and courfeyrac getting together, with a focus on combeferre's feelings throughout his friendship with his other halves. thanks for checking it out, i hope you enjoy!

They had the sort of friendship that most people only ever imagine: the sort of friendship that’s powerful enough to make you believe in fate because they were so obviously meant to come together and take the world by storm. 

When Combeferre found Enjolras, he found himself; and, for a moment, he thought his world was complete. Their thoughts, their words, their actions were nearly indistinguishable. They were one and the same and they made themselves a reckoning. Everyone noticed: some with jokes and some with jealousy. For the first time in his life, Combeferre felt unstoppable. He didn’t mind that, in some convoluted way, his sense of self came at the expense of his individual self. Then again, how could he mind with Enjolras at his side?

But his invincibility did not last forever. For all of their similarities, key differences began to emerge. Enjolras was captivating and passionate in a way that Combeferre could never quite understand enough to emulate. Enjolras became beautiful - angelic, some said - while Combeferre clung to some of the awkwardness of his youth. No matter what Enjolras said to convince his friend otherwise, it was clear that he was becoming the more favorable of the two. 

At first, Combeferre didn’t mind. Again, how could he? They still completed each other, and though they became less of the same, he still had the best friend the universe could have graced him with. They initiated change where they could and advocated where they couldn’t. They spoke and lived their values, and no matter the circumstances, they were there for each other. 

Even as Enjolras seemed to rise above the mundane, Combeferre was at his side, insisting that nothing had changed. Even as he noticed the way others got giddy and blushy around Enjolras; even as he noticed the slew of phone numbers and dinner offers. Enjolras was not immune to them, as many thought he was. He confided in Combeferre when someone caught his eye, but he usually talked himself out of any feelings he might have had within hours. Once, Enjolras groaned and wished that more people would direct their attention towards Combeferre. He laughed along at the time, but it felt like a slap in the face. 

★★★

From then on out, it was hard for ‘Ferre not to see himself as a watered-down version of his seemingly unapproachable best friend. More and more, it crossed his mind and he found himself scrutinizing their differences which webbed out like a crack in a windshield. That was until Courfeyrac entered the picture. 

Their new friend was loud and bright and dazzling, so different from Enjolras and Combeferre that his friendship should not have made sense. But, Courfeyrac filled the gaps between them and, once again, Combeferre felt whole. At once, he could feel his head in the clouds and his feet on the ground. 

It was like Courfeyrac had been there all along; Combeferre could hardly remember the days when Enjolras had his devoted attention. They were all steadier and better for it. 

When they were preparing for their first protest together, wired on caffeine and adrenaline, working into the wee hours of the morning, Courfeyrac gave them each a poorly-constructed origami heart. “Pour ma moitié,” he’d said as he handed one to Combeferre. “Et pour mon autre moitié,” he’d said as he handed the other to Enjolras, who was touched enough to overlook Courfeyrac’s distractedness. 

Combeferre humorously objected on the basis that they could not possibly both be half of Courfeyrac and insisted that they were each _un tiers_ for each other, but fundamentally, he understood and agreed. He kept the heart tucked inside his wallet from that night forward. 

★★★

They were on the balcony of Jehan’s apartment when Combeferre started thinking about life before Courfeyrac. With the sliding door slightly open, they could still hear Enjolras arguing with Marius over some idiotic comment he had made in passing. The get-together was ostensibly in celebration of their demonstration in the student center. It had been quite a success. 

“They love him,” Combeferre said, staring up at the stars. Anyone else might have missed the twisting melancholy in his voice. “The way everyone looks at him,” he continued searching for constellations, “He is the best leader this group could have,” he doesn’t hesitate to use the word _leader_ in the company of Courfeyrac. “They love him and his words and sometimes, I think, the ground he walks on.”

Courfeyrac interrupted him, “Those are your words, Combeferre. They love _your_ words.”

“He doesn’t say them like I wrote them,” he argues, thinking he could never have so much impact on his own. “He makes them his own when he speaks, can’t you tell?”

“You’re being hard on yourself. Why?” Courfeyrac didn’t wait for an answer. “Today went better than any of us imagined. You should be celebrating.”

“I was celebrating; I needed the fresh air.”

“You’re upset-”

“I am not upset, I’m-”

“Don’t argue semantics-”

“Fine, I’m upset.” Combeferre admitted, glancing towards his friend and the door behind him. “I’m upset that everyone loves him. I feel guilty for thinking that way. I feel scared that it’s going to tear us apart.” He enumerates his dominant emotions, hoping to convey them as simply as possible. 

“Everyone does love him-”

“I know, that’s why I’m upset.”

“Will you let me finish? Everyone does love him, but they love you, too. They may not bend over backwards to kiss your feet, but is that what you want?”  
Combeferre considered this, “No. Of course not, but I want to be seen for who I am. Not Enjolras’s right-hand man. Not Enjolras’s friend. Not Courfeyrac’s friend. Those are all part of who I am, but not the entirety.”

“Enjolras sees you in your entirety. Everyone in there sees you. Anyone worth their weight in salt sees you for who you are, ‘Ferre.”

“What about you?” He asked, immediately noting the omission. 

It was Courfeyrac’s turn to search the sky. “I love him, too,” he started, raising a hand before Combeferre could argue with him. “I love him, but I am _in love_ with you, and I think I’ve been in love with you since the day we met.” He paused, his hand falling limply at his side. “I have tried so many times to tell you. I’ve written letters and emails and an awfully ambiguous poem under the influence of frosé and Jehan, but that’s besides the point.” Combeferre exhaled sharply, in what might have been a laugh. 

“The point is, ‘Ferre — Every time I built myself up enough to tell you, you did something so painfully _you_ that I… I couldn’t bear to risk losing you. You’d remember my order and bring me a coffee for no other reason than to be kind. You’d send me an excited paragraph about some new connection you made in class or some random fact you learned.” Frustration warped his features and his hands articulated his distress in a strange, flopping motion. “You showed up to cheer me on for a presentation I mentioned only one time.” 

“Of course,” Combeferre interjected, “You’re my best friend.” 

“Exactly!” Courfeyrac exclaimed, “You are my best friend, and I was not going to risk that for anything. I know you have had Enjolras, and for a while I was envious of your friendship until I realized that I had what you two had.” He ran his fingers through wild curls, upset by the wind. “But, I still wanted more, and I thought it was unfair of me to ask for so much when I already had the world. So I never asked. I see you for who you are, Combeferre, but I also see you as someone who is hopelessly in love with you. Therefore, my perspective is an outlier and should not be considered with the others.”

Combeferre nodded, as if nodding would somehow help him make sense of this new information. “Oh.” He paused panicked and quickly added, “That isn’t my response. You’ve just poured your heart out to me, I promise I have more to say. I just need to get it right.” 

“Of course,” he turned towards the door, “I think I’m going to head back in, give you some time -”

“No,” Combeferre reached for his arm, stopping him. “Courfeyrac, I’m not sure when I fell in love with you. I’m not sure when I realized I was in love with you, and I’m not sure when I stopped denying to myself that I was in love with you. But I love you; I am in love with you.”

“Before you, I found myself seeking a fraction of the attention that Enjolras got,” he admitted. “After you, I forgot all about it for a while. You retaught us both how to operate outside of each other; I didn’t mind so much anymore. But today when he was speaking, you looked at him as if there was no one else in the world. And I realized, for the longest time, I didn’t want just anyone to look at me like that. I wanted you to look at me like that.”

“Look at you like what?” Jehan asked, appearing behind them.

“We’re trying to work something out,” Courfeyrac answered after several awkwards seconds of staring back and forth. “Could we have a few more minutes?”

But Jehan was already lighting a cigarette and turning their back to them. “Act like I’m not even here.”

Courfeyrac rolled his eyes and dropped his voice to a fierce whisper, “He is a damn good orator. I wasn’t looking at him like that because I want to date him. Before you can protest or work out whatever thought is making you scrunch your nose like that — Combeferre, will you please let me take you on a date?” 

Before Combeferre could produce an answer, Jehan turned back around and gasped. “I knew that’s what you two were talking about out here. Enjolras didn’t believe me. Oh, don’t make those faces. He’s known for the past three months that something has been going on between you two. When it comes to himself, he may not be the most perceptive of the bunch, bless Grantaire’s soul, but how could he not notice something so obvious between his best friends?” They made a motion of zipping and locking their lips before returning to their cigarette break as if nothing had happened. 

“Do you really think Enjolras knew?” Combeferre whispered, looking like a deer in headlights. 

“Frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn.”

“Are you really quoting _Gone with the Wind_?”

“Are you really avoiding my question?” Courfeyrac asked pointedly, unsure if Combeferre had intentionally not answered. 

“No, I just assumed my answer was obvious,” Combeferre reached out and found Courfeyrac hands, intertwining their fingers and drawing him close. “Of course I’ll go on a date with you. We can work out the details later. As you said, we should be celebrating.” 

Courfeyrac grinned and started to pull them back towards the party, but Combeferre stopped and pivoted. “Jehan, I heard there’s an awfully ambiguous poem with my name on it somewhere. Is that so?” Beside him, Courfeyrac groaned and slid open the door, trying to pull them both away. 

“I’ll send you a copy, ‘Ferre, go celebrate with _ton petit ami_.” They snickered and shooed the pair through the door, “Have fun! Tell Grantaire he can call of spin the bottle.”

**Author's Note:**

> if you made it to the end, thanks for reading! i hope you enjoyed.


End file.
